


Crutches

by Pennygirl612



Series: Third Strike [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Badass Elizabeth, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, Loving Burke relationship, Mild Sexual Content, Prequel to my Third Strike story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-24 10:34:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20357029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennygirl612/pseuds/Pennygirl612
Summary: Elizabeth did a quick review in her head.  Little sleep.  Loads of carbs and sugars. No exercise.  Peter had hit on the trifecta of unhealthy behavior, and she simply wasn’t going to stand for it.  She was not going to sit idly by as he destroyed himself all over some case. And that was why Elizabeth was still awake, her anger growing with each minute that passed until it was a full boil when she at last heard her husband enter the house.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So how did Peter end up on crutches as Elizabeth alluded to in my Third Strike Story? Well inquiring minds (and you know who you are!) wanted to know! While this is a prequel to my Third Strike story, it can be read as a stand alone.

Chapter One

Well after midnight Elizabeth shifted restlessly in bed both her concern and growing anger keeping her from sleeping. The concern she was used to as this was a nightly occurrence and her worry never dissipated until her husband safely passed through the front door. The anger was a more recent phenomenon and unlike the worry, would actually ramp up with Peter’s arrival since his workaholic ways were the very cause of her angst.

Peter was pushing the boundaries. Not an evening this week had he made it home before midnight and in fact each night had been later than the one before. She doubted he had managed more than 5-6 hours of sleep any given night, yet the next morning, he was back at the office on time if not early. 

Then she thought about the deviled ham she had made for him. Two days later the container still remained in the refrigerator full and untouched. She figured Peter was most likely skipping out on meals relying on junk food instead to sustain him.

Her eyes drifting to the closet, Elizabeth thought about Peter’s gym bag and running shoes. Neither had made it out of the room all week and poor Satchmo was showing signs of neglect having not had a single morning run with his master all week. 

Elizabeth did a quick review in her head. Little sleep. Loads of carbs and sugars. No exercise. Peter had hit on the trifecta of unhealthy behavior, and she simply wasn’t going to stand for it. She was not going to sit idly by as he destroyed himself all over some case. And that was why Elizabeth was still awake, her anger growing with each minute that passed until it was a full boil when she at last heard her husband enter the house.

*****   
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” 

Peter winced hearing his wife’s voice coming from the top of the stairs. And yes, he did know the time. It was exactly 1:26am. While Peter had actually arrived home ten minutes earlier, it had taken him that long to garner enough energy to leave the cozy, warm confines of his car and drag his exhausted body out into the chilly air and up the walkway to the house. 

“Yeah sorry, Hon. Go back to bed. I’ll be right there,” Peter called up to his wife. 

Laying his jacket haphazardly on a dining room chair, Peter made his way into the kitchen where he opened the refrigerator door. Scanning the contents inside, Peter was pretty sure he had skipped both lunch and dinner. Thinking back, Peter couldn’t remember if the stale, obnoxiously sweet croissant he had consumed had been this morning’s breakfast or from the day before. 

Despite the rumbling of his stomach, the thought of heating up leftovers or making a sandwich just seemed like too much effort-even if Peter did think he saw a Tupperware container of homemade deviled ham sitting there on the first shelf. Settling on a beer instead, Peter twisted off the cap while using his elbow to close the refrigerator door. 

Taking a long pull from the bottle, Peter closed his eyes. This case was consuming him and while he knew it wasn’t healthy, he also recognized that this was how he operated when he sank his teeth into a case. And quite frankly his current case fascinated the hell out of him. Oh, the crook of the week he was by no means another James Bonds or even a Dutchman, but she (and Peter was convinced it was a female) was cunning and conniving and just elusive enough to have Peter feeling invested in the chase. Peter had thought they had caught a break today only to have their subject vanish like a puff of smoke. 

Intending only to rest for a moment, Peter was so exhausted he actually fell asleep, right there in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, the cold beer still grasped in his hand on top of the counter. So fatigued was he that Peter didn’t hear his wife entrance into the kitchen and was oblivious to the world. That is until his much needed rest was interrupted by a hard whack to the back of his head. 

Startled, Peter blinked several times before his eyes were able to focus on the very irate woman standing before him, hands crossed against her chest, lips downturned, and raging blue eyes the color of deep cobalt staring back at him. Wide-eyed, Peter actually took a step to the side to put a little distance between them. 

Holding his hands up in surrender and slightly out in front just in case he needed to protect himself from further attack, Peter tried his best to take on a consoling, apologetic tone. “Elizabeth, dear, honey, I know--”

Elizabeth’s eyes turned to mere slits as she cut him off. “You know what, exactly? That it’s after one o’clock? That this is the fourth straight night that you’ve missed dinner? Or that you look like complete and utter shit right now?!”

Peter, taken back by his wife’s no-holds-bar assessment, wisely did not argue even though he was certain it had only been three nights…well, almost certain. And since he suspected he felt far worse than he looked, shit could be a reasonable approximation of his current condition. It gave him pause that maybe he was getting a little long in the tooth to pull back-to-back-to-back stakeouts. Mentally, he made a note that tomorrow he would…

Peter didn’t realize he had fallen asleep again until he felt a hard finger poking him in the chest. Rubbing a hand over his face, this time Peter avoided eye contact with his wife.

“On my God, did you just fall asleep while I was yelling at you?” Elizabeth exclaimed while grabbing him by the arm and propelling him forward. “Peter Burke, you’re going to bed, but don’t think we won’t be finishing this conversation in the morning!”

Stifling a yawn, Peter nodded in agreement, but intentionally did not mention his plan to be up and out of the house well before her 6am alarm went off. Instead, he allowed himself to be pushed out of the kitchen and herded up the stairs to their bedroom. As Peter spied the welcoming sight of their bed, he quickly stripped down to this t-shirt and boxers before slipping under the sheet. Peter was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. 

A few hours later when Elizabeth’s alarm went off…

“That son of a bitch!” Elizabeth exclaimed staring in disbelief at the empty space beside her on the bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stepping through the glass doors, Elizabeth marched straight through the bullpen area, her high heels clicking loudly in her wake. Seeing her purposeful gait and determined expression, no one including Jones, Diana and Neal who had witnessed Elizabeth’s entrance, dared stop her as she continued up the stairs to the second level. 
> 
> “By the look on her face, Peter is in deep shit!” Neal exclaimed to the others who nodded their agreement before returning to work; each of them happy they weren’t in Peter’s shoes.

Chapter Two

Elizabeth fought against her strong desire to head straight to Peter’s office and give him a piece of her mind for the stunt he had just pulled. Instead after a round of morning meditation, she went to work where she assessed her busy schedule. Seeing no openings suitable for her needs, Elizabeth decided to delegate a lunchtime meeting to Yvonne only telling her assistant that she had a personal matter that needed tending to. 

Shortly after twelve, Elizabeth entered the Federal Building where she tried to reach her husband by phone. Not for the first time that day her call went straight to voicemail as her husband, aka chicken shit as she had now dubbed him, was avoiding her. Feeling her ill temper rise with the passing of each and every floor, she was at a nice simmering boil by the time she exited the elevator at the 21st floor. 

Stepping through the glass doors, Elizabeth marched straight through the bullpen area, her high heels clicking loudly in her wake. Seeing her purposeful gait and determined expression, no one including Jones, Diana and Neal who had witnessed Elizabeth’s entrance, dared stop her as she continued up the stairs to the second level. 

“By the look on her face, Peter is in deep shit!” Neal exclaimed to the others who nodded their agreement before returning to work; each of them happy they weren’t in Peter’s shoes. 

Having at last reached Peter’s office, Elizabeth wasn’t really surprised to find it empty and her husband nowhere to be found. She figured Peter had asked the security guards in the lobby to alert him should she stop by. That way he would have plenty of time to effectively disappear from sight. But as luck would have it, Elizabeth zeroed in on Peter’s boss who had the unfortunate timing of leaving the safety of his office to talk to Peter.

“Elizabeth,” Hughes said in greeting, oblivious to her mood and to what he had just stepped into. 

Elizabeth, turning on the charm, rewarded Hughes with a sweet smile. “Reese.”

Seeing the empty office, Hughes looked at Elizabeth and despite the smile on her face, he got the sense that something was off. “It appears your husband is not in his office,” Hughes said stating the obvious.

Nodding, Elizabeth continued smiling though Hughes could now see a heated spark behind her blue eyes. “I’m sure he’s hiding,” she said in a matter of fact tone.

Frowning, Hughes repeated, “Hiding? From-?” Hughes prompted.

“Me,” she supplied as if the answer should have been obvious. Looking around, she continued, “Likely in a restroom somewhere.”

“And why would he be hiding?” Hughes asked deciding to tread lightly until he could fully test out the water. 

“Have you seen him?” Elizabeth pointedly asked Hughes.

“Uh, no I thought he was in his office.” Hughes responded. "I could have sworn he was here just a moment ago." 

Elizabeth shook her head since he had missed her point. “No, I mean have you looked at him? He looks like shit!” She turned to face Hughes. “Frankly, I’m disappointed in you.”

Hughes, clearly surprised, raised an eyebrow. “In what way if I may ask?”

“I thought you recognized Peter’s the best agent on your unit.”

“He is and I do,” Hughes immediately acknowledged. He was beginning to realize the deep water he found himself in had at least one predatory shark circling, looking for blood.

Elizabeth gave him a steely glare; one from Hughes’ own play book. It almost made the senior agent want to take a small step back but he forced himself to remain rooted in his spot. Instinctively, Hughes knew this was not the time to show fear. 

“Oh, so you’re fully aware your best agent has been burning the candle at both ends this week and has not been home once before midnight?!”

Hughes, who had learned to be home every day by 6pm or suffer the wrath of his own wife, had not been aware of the late hours his lead agent had been keeping. However, Hughes managed to only feel slightly guilty. While he was not an ASAC that micromanaged his agents, Hughes did demand results. If an agent could do that in a 40 hour work week, great. If not, Hughes expected his agents do whatever necessary to close cases even if that meant working evenings and weekends.

Still, with a natural workaholic like Burke, perhaps he should be paying more attention, Hughes thought. It wouldn’t do to have Burke burn out when Hughes had such big plans for the agent. And if past examples were true to form, Hughes did need to keep a closer watch. The nearly three year chase to capture Caffrey had in the end left his best agent drained and exhausted. Even then, it had been like pulling teeth to enforce the use or lose annual leave on Burke.

Looking more closely at Elizabeth, Hughes had the sudden realization that Burke finally agreeing to take vacation hadn’t been because Hughes had pulled rank and ordered Burke to take the time off. More likely, it had been a single quiet demand from the woman before him that had done it. Hughes could almost picture Elizabeth staring her husband down, daring him to open his mouth with some weakass excuse for why he had to go back into the office rather than get some rest. Amused by the picture he had painted, Hughes forgot the woman on a rampage was still standing in front of him.

“You find something funny about working my husband into the ground?” Elizabeth asked sharply, eyes narrowing on her target.

Hughes snapped back to attention and this time did take a small step backwards. “Uh, no, ma’am! I will address your concerns when I see Agent Burke.” 

Elizabeth stepped forward. The petite woman nearly a foot and a half shorter than Hughes was not intimidated in the least as she invaded his personal space. 

“My concerns,” Elizabeth repeated softly. “Reese, I knew what I was getting into when I married an FBI Agent. The FBI is like a mistress and some days demands more attention than others. It’s a simple as that. And while I’m okay with sharing him, let me make something very clear. I will not allow his work to be the death of him! I highly suggest your find your M.I.A agent A.S.A.P. and ensure he’s home for dinner tonight!”

Having made her point, Hughes watched Elizabeth turn smartly on her heels and march back down the stairs. As she neared them all members of the White Collar Unit wisely steered clear of her path.

Once the glass doors had closed and the echo of her heels had faded, only then did Hughes consider it safe enough to go searching for his missing agent. Deciding his wife was likely correct, Hughes headed for the men’s restroom. Stepping inside, Hughes found Peter leaning casually against the paper towel dispenser, but his agent snapped to attention upon seeing his boss.

Looking Peter up and down, Hughes easily recognized the signs of a man running on empty. Hughes shook his head in disappointment. “Your wife’s right. You do look like shit!”

“Why thank you, sir,” Peter answered in a sarcastic tone before he could stop himself. This was another sign he was tired. In his right mind, his filter would have kicked in and prevented that kind of comment from ever escaping his lips. Thankfully, Hughes didn’t seem to take offense and let the comment go. 

“She also said I’d find you hiding in the restroom,” Hughes advised more to see what Peter’s reaction would be. 

Peter’s cheeks turned slightly red as he protested, “I’m not hiding in the restroom, sir. I’m-” 

Hughes cut his agent off not wanting to hear whatever flimsy excuse Peter was about to give for hanging out in the restroom. Instead he remarked, “Quite the woman you have there, Burke. Kind of a spit fire, isn’t she?!”

Peter, taken back by Hughes comment, didn’t know how to respond. “Uh, yes, sir,” Peter finally managed to answer. 

When Hughes didn’t say anything more but simply stared at him, Peter shifted nervously on his feet. “Was there something you wanted, sir?” Peter asked hesitantly, feeling increasingly uncomfortable having a conversation about his wife with his boss from inside a restroom. 

“Actually, yes,” Hughes said, a plan beginning to formulate in his brain. A plan that hopefully would help his agent out of the jam he had gotten himself into, but he needed time to work out the details…

“The SAC has called a 2pm meeting with all the unit heads for status updates,” Hughes at last informed Peter.

“And you want me to handle it?” Peter asked with a perplexed look. Never before had Hughes delegated this particular meeting, and Peter wasn’t sure if he should view attending the meeting now as a reward or punishment.

Hughes gave Peter his best steely look. “Since I hear you’ve been keeping such late hours it seems to me you’re better suited than I am to give the unit update, don’t you agree?” 

Without waiting for a response, Hughes left his even more confused agent alone in the restroom. After all, Hughes had an important operation to map out and time was of the essence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to play around with Hughes in this story. I'm not sure if he's actually in character or not but I like to think Hughes had a playful side to balance out his seriousness. Hope you enjoy the liberties I've taken with his character.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quickly skimming the folder, she looked up sharply at Hughes, a look of dismay evident in her expression. “Really?!” Diana said finally, her voice betraying her exasperation. “Operation Doghouse”?!

Chapter Three

The moment Burke left his office Hughes stormed out unto the balcony overlooking the bullpen area. As he scanned below, Hughes felt immense satisfaction when all heads snapped up so trained were they to unconsciously monitor overhead for the ASAC’s presence. Hughes gave the two finger point gesture first to Jones and then Berrigan. 

Hughes’ eyes fell on Caffrey who calmly met the agent’s gaze, awaiting the decision on whether he was to join the party along with the other two agents. In Hughes’ book Caffrey was always a wild card, but perhaps under the circumstances a rebel without a cause was exactly what the operation called for. With an audible sigh and tell-tale reluctance, he at last gave the gesture for Caffrey to join the group. 

Once all were present and seated in the conference room, Hughes gave each one a hard look, effectively getting them in the right mind set. The operation he was about to task them with was one of upmost importance but not without some peril. 

“Agents,” Hughes said followed by an acknowledgement of the conman, “Caffrey. It has come to my attention that one of our own is in dire straits and needs our help.”

Looking at each one in turn, Hughes was pleased he had their full attention and that all three seemed excited and curious about the new tasking despite it being late into a Friday afternoon and the weekend beckoning. Hughes suspected along with their boss that each had worked long hours already this week, but if they were looking forward to the weekend and some much needed time off, none showed it now. It reminded Hughes again that Burke had formulated a team to be proud of.

“Let me make something clear. This operation may be dangerous in ways you’re not accustomed to which is why I’m strictly seeking volunteers. Each of you can refuse this assignment without fear of repercussion and if at any point you feel uncomfortable, you can freely walk away. It’s important that you understand that,” Hughes stated. 

Hughes waited for all three heads to nod, before continuing. “As I’ve already indicated, an agent in our unit has gotten himself into some trouble. And while he has not asked for assistance, I like to think here at the White Collar Unit we come to each other’s aid without question and without the need to be asked.”

Once again, all heads nodded; this time even more strongly than before. Surprisingly, it was Caffrey who spoke up for the group. “We are family, sir. How can we help?”

Hughes turned to Jones and Berrigan. Both raised eyebrows back at Hughes for even questioning whether or not they felt different than Caffrey. “I’m pleased to hear that. Alright, let’s begin.” 

Hughes picked up the folder in front of him. “The scant details I have accumulated are all inside this folder. I need you to study the subject and victim and work up profiles on each. We need the best strategy to extrapolate the victim from the precarious situation he’s facing.” 

With that, Hughes slid the folder down the table where Jones picked it up and opened it. Reading the contents, Jones looked up at Hughes and then busted out laughing. He was still chuckling when he slid the folder across the table to a curious Diana.

Quickly skimming the folder, she looked up sharply at Hughes, a look of dismay evident in her expression. “Really?!” Diana said finally, her voice betraying her exasperation. “Operation Doghouse”?!

“Judging from her expression earlier more like Operation Maneater!” Jones pipped in while humming the chorus from the Hall and Oates song.

Neal took the folder from Diana’s hand and gave it his full attention; a frown on his face as he read through the contents. While impressed with the information Hughes had gathered in such a short period as well as to the insight leveraged in the documents, Neal’s familiarity with both the subject and victim enabled him to recognize the situation was likely far more dire than any of them suspected. 

“Hey,” Neal protested. “This is no joke!” 

Once he had all of their focused attention, Neal pointed to the picture of the victim. “Clearly, this Agent needs our help!” 

Then Neal pointed to the picture of the subject. “And you may think you know this woman. She may seem nice and sweet; a kind, harmless soul if you will. But she has another side that comes out when someone she cares about is threatened. And if this is one of those times then Elizabeth Burke may very well be the most dangerous subject White Collar has ever faced!” 

“I think you’re being a little melodramatic.” Diana said breaking the eerie silence that had fallen upon the room after Neal’s brazen statement.

“I don’t think so,” Neal insisted. “Did you see the look on her face when ‘Hurricane El’ stormed in here? We worked late every night this week and I can tell you that Peter was knocking on my door every morning by six thirty.”

“So he’s in the doghouse because he’s neglecting his wife?” Jones asked skeptically.

Hughes joined in the conversation. “No, Elizabeth made it abundantly clear that this was not about her.”

Neal nodded, “You’re right, sir. This is more about Peter pushing himself too hard. She really is fiercely protective of him.”

“Still,” Diana said. “This is Peter’s personal life we are talking about. How happy is he going to be with us sticking our noses into his private affairs?”

“Please!” Neal snorted. “While brilliant at work, we’ve all seen how clueless Peter can be in his domestic life. How many birthdays and anniversaries has the man thrown something together last minute because he lost track of time? Believe me he needs all the help he can get!”

Hughes saw Jones and Diana nod in agreement making Hughes glad he had asked the young man to participate in the operation. Not that he likely could have kept Caffrey out of it once it became known it had to do with Peter. Deep down, Hughes understood that Caffrey respected his handler and while Hughes wasn’t exactly thrilled about the closeness of their relationship, it had so far garnered results in the way of closed cases, and Hughes couldn’t argue with that. 

“Besides,” Neal continued since the others still seemed a little reluctant. “You’re not seeing the ramifications here for all of us. If Elizabeth isn’t happy, Peter isn’t happy. And an unhappy Peter--”

“--makes our lives miserable!” Jones and Diana jointly finished.

“Exactly!” Neal exclaimed, glad the two agents were now seeing the bigger picture.

For his part, Neal was secretly enjoying himself. He found the thought of interfering in Peter’s personal life to be a ‘turnabout’s fair play’ kind of moment. Lord knows Peter had more than once taken it upon himself to invade Neal’s personal life. Neal only had to think of the time Peter had invited himself to stay at his apartment while Elizabeth was gone and his house was under repair. Then there was the time, Peter had crashed his date and the time… 

Hughes cleared his throat to garner the attention of the group. “Alright, now that we all understand what’s at stake, we need to get started since we are on a tight deadline. In less than an hour Peter will be out of his meeting. We have that much time to put an effective game plan together. Elizabeth is expecting her husband home for dinner but it’s going to take more than his timely presence to get Peter out of the hot water he has landed in.”

Allowing his steely gray eyes to wash over each of them, Hughes spoke sternly to the group. “People, we need to think completely outside the box on this one. And I don’t think I have to tell you that failure is not an option!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hughes shook his head and cut him off. “Operation Doghouse is in full gear and you have your orders.” 
> 
> A look of panic crossed Peter’s face for just a nanosecond but it wasn’t missed by the senior agent. “Burke, are you afraid to go home to your wife?” Hughes asked with more than a hint of amusement in his voice.
> 
> Peter swallowed before answering, “Truthfully, sir? I’m terrified!”

Chapter Four

Three hours later…

As per his orders, Peter initially parked his car a full three blocks away and hidden down a side street from his townhouse. A quick check of his phone assured him that his wife was still busy at work. Yvonne, having been enlisted into Operation Doghouse by Neal, was to send Peter a text when Elizabeth wrapped up for the day. 

Knowing the drive from her work to home took a minimum of twenty minutes, Peter put the car back in gear and this time parked right in front of his house. Not knowing exactly how much time he had, Peter quickly carried the various bags from his car and into the house. He dealt with the take out sushi first placing it immediately into the refrigerator. 

Raw fish would not have been Peter’s first choice for dinner, but Diana was right when she said it was Elizabeth’s favorite. And then Diana had looked Peter straight in the eye and unabashedly informed him of sushi’s aphrodisiac benefits. Regarding that last tidbit of information, Peter had simply nodded. Wisely, Peter had kept his mouth shut and had done his best to ignore the flushed feeling that had threatened to overtake him. 

Next Peter took out the two bottles of wine Neal had purchased with Peter’s credit card of course! And while Peter was more than a little miffed that he hadn’t caught the little thief lifting his wallet earlier in that morning (and Peter fully blamed his lack of sleep for this), he was more anxious to see what wines the conman had selected fearing they would be beyond what Peter would call an acceptable price range. 

Peter was initially relieved to recognize the labels as coming from a small vineyard out of the Finger Lakes area. Both bottles were of high quality yet well within his modest budget. They were also vintages Elizabeth had favored when the Burkes had stayed at a nearby bed and breakfast during the one and only vacation Peter had taken while invested in his three year manhunt for James Bonds. 

As he started to consider the ramifications of Neal’s knowledge of these particular wines, Peter made the very conscious decision not to further dwell on the matter. Surely no good would come from knowing that in all likelihood Neal had been in the vicinity to spy on him since there could be no other explanation for the conman’s presence in such a remote, secluded area. So Peter carefully tucked that thought away in the back of his mind to be dealt with on another day. Right now he had far more pressing concerns. 

Returning his attention back to his mental to-do list, next Peter took the flowers Jones had secured from the corner street vendor and carefully arranged the dozen red roses in a glass vase. He placed them on the dining room table along with a box of assorted premium truffles. In this, Peter appreciated Jones’ style. Nothing said ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘please forgive me’ better than flowers and chocolate. 

Looking around, Peter assessed that he had taken care of all of the bags with the exception of one. It had been given to him by Hughes and had Peter feeling both curious and more than a little nervous about its contents. The senior agent had literally slid the large bag into the elevator at the last possible moment and the doors had closed on him before Peter could fathom what his boss was up to. 

Even before the elevator incident, his boss’ behavior had left Peter somewhat in a state of shock. Having returned from the Section meeting, Peter had found a sticky note summoning him to the conference room. Once there, he was confused to see his team hard at work on what appeared to be a new case. Nearing the white board, Peter paled when he saw both his own picture and that of his wife, all under the Operation Doghouse title. 

For the next twenty minutes, each team member took turns presenting the game plan and drilling instructions into Peter’s head. They recited an entire list of ‘do’s and don’ts’ until the agent’s head was left spinning. Once convinced Peter was as mentally prepared as they could make him, only then did they usher him out of the conference room with assurances that all the tools he needed for the success of the operation had already been placed in his car. 

Of course as soon as he left the conference room, Peter had thought of one last thing he needed to do before heading home. He would make it quick, he assured himself and then go straight home per his instructions.

But as he neared his office, he noticed something odd. His door was closed. Even more baffling was when he twisted the knob he found the door was locked. Peter stared at the door as if it was a foreign object to him. He never locked his door. Everyone respected the sanctity of his office. Well, everyone but Neal but since Peter knew he would just pick the lock, Peter still saw no reason to lock his door. Peter was reaching into his pants pocket for keys when he heard footsteps come up behind him. 

“Don’t bother,” Hughes informed his agent. “I had the lock changed.”

Peter slowly turned around and stared as his boss in disbelief. Clearly, he had misheard what Hughes had just stated. “Excuse me?”

Hughes smirked and to Peter seemed quite pleased with himself. “I had security change the lock. I also revoked your building privileges for the remainder of weekend. Once you leave today, you cannot gain access to the building let alone this floor before 9am Monday morning.” 

“But-” Peter started to protest.

Hughes shook his head and cut him off. “Operation Doghouse is in full gear and you have your orders.” 

A look of panic crossed Peter’s face for just a nanosecond but it wasn’t missed by the senior agent. “Burke, are you afraid to go home to your wife?” Hughes asked with more than a hint of amusement in his voice.

Peter swallowed before answering, “Truthfully, sir? I’m terrified!”

His response made Hughes chuckle causing Peter to stare wide-eyed at his boss. Peter wasn’t sure he had ever seen the man smile before let alone chuckle. 

“Yeah, from what I’ve gathered you probably damn well should be!”

Peter sighed even as Hughes grabbed ahold of his arm and practically manhandled Peter down the stairs and out the glass doors. It appeared Peter had no choice but to go home and face the music. And just as the elevator doors were set to close, that was when Hughes had slid in the large bag of unknown contents. 

Looking first at the bag and then back at his boss, Peter narrowed his eyes suspicious of what his boss was up to. Because if Hughes had looked ‘pleased’ with himself for changing the lock on Peter’s office door, the look the senior agent now had on his face could best be described as one of the cat who swallowed the canary. However, the door closed before Peter could utter a word. 

Back in his living room, Peter now looked at this bag with complete trepidation. Inside, he found a large box wrapped in simple cream paper with a golden bow tied to its front. In addition to the box, there was a single sheet of paper. Reading the note only raised more questions for Peter but at this point he was resigned to his fate. And so, Peter picked up the surprisingly heavy box and carried it upstairs per the note’s instructions. It wasn’t until after he laid it on the bed that he saw his wife’s name handwritten across the top. 

It was then that his phone buzzed. Without even looking, Peter knew it was Yvonne. He sighed and involuntary shutter passed through him. Elizabeth, his best friend, his lover, his partner, and currently the person he feared most in his life, was on her way home. Soon enough Peter was one way or another going to be put out of his misery. Either Elizabeth would kill him, and Peter had no doubt it would be a slow, painful death, or his wife would forgive him in which case Peter knew that the amount of work required to earn that forgiveness might have him wishing for death instead! 

With Hughes’ mystery box all but forgotten now that he knew his wife was on her way home, Peter picked up his car keys and headed out the door. He needed to return the car to its hidden spot per his instructions to let his presence be a surprise to his wife. He had been assured she would view this as a sign he was taking her concerns seriously and would set the proper tone for their evening. 

Shaking his head at the apparent lengths he was willing to go, Peter walked to his car. For now, he would be the good soldier and simply follow the orders he had been given all in the hopes that Operation Doghouse would prove successful and he would be back in his wife’s good graces without loss of life or limb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay everyone. That's it for today. The last chapter and epilogue are still a work in progress. Hope to have finished and posted tomorrow. 
> 
> Feel free to drop me a comment to let me know if the story and my depiction of Hughes is working for you. Any and all feedback is also welcome!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth held Peter's gaze and could see the tiny sweat beads on his forehead. He was nervous, she thought, and he should be! She maintained eye contact until he squirmed and shifted in his seat. She wanted him to know that while his being home with food no less was a good start, he wasn’t off her shit list yet.

Chapter Five

Elizabeth would be the first to admit she entered her residence with a boulder size chip on her shoulder. An absent car on the street led her to the disappointing conclusion her husband was still at work. A very unwise decision on his part, Elizabeth thought, as she pushed open the front door with more force than necessary. 

She started to reach for her phone. Elizabeth was going to leave a scathing message that would have Peter both blushing and fearing for his safety all at the same time! But then she spied something that stopped her dead in her tracks phone falling back into her purse.

There seated on the couch was Peter with a rather sheepish look on the face of her husband. And laid out on the coffee table before him was quite the spread of sashimi, shrimp tempura, and an assorted selection of other sushi rolls along with accompanying containers of soy sauce, ginger, and wasabi. 

Reaching for the bottle of white wine that had been chilling in an ice bucket on the floor at his feet, Peter said tentatively, “Wine, Hon?”

Elizabeth held Peter's gaze and could see the tiny sweat beads on his forehead. He was nervous, she thought, and he should be! She maintained eye contact until he squirmed and shifted in his seat. She wanted him to know that while his being home with food no less was a good start, he wasn’t off her shit list yet. 

“Yes, please,” Elizabeth answered in a civil tone as she moved to the dining room to lay down her work bag. 

There she found another surprise in the form of the flowers and truffles. She was starting to see a pattern. Clearly, her husband was making an effort to apologize. The problem lie in the fact that Elizabeth doubted Peter knew exactly why she was so upset in the first place.

Returning to the living room, Peter tapped the empty space beside him. When she was comfortable, Peter handed her a glass of wine before pouring one for himself. They sat in awkward silence, sipping the wine more to have something to do than anything else neither of them really tasting the semi-sweet liquid. The tension and unease in the air was nearly palpable. And even though Elizabeth was still furious, she knew had to put her husband out of his misery and at the very least acknowledge his efforts.

Breaking the silence, Elizabeth asked her husband, “You did all this?”

Peter wasn’t able to maintain eye contact and the crease in his brow became more prominent. Of course his team had anticipated this question and he had been instructed to take full ownership, but Peter had never been able to lie to his wife nor could he take credit for another person’s work.

“It was a team effort,” Peter acknowledged truthfully. 

Elizabeth gave him a small smile appreciating his honesty and thinking how lucky Peter was to be surrounded by such a good and caring team; a family really.

“And did the team think that the sushi, wine, chocolate and flowers were going to be enough to get you out of my doghouse?” Elizabeth asked while casually picking up a pair of chopsticks. 

Peter shrugged. They had all known it was only a start, and they had other tricks up their sleeves to help Peter. One of which he was about to implement as he calmly took the chopsticks from his wife’s hand. It was a risky move he was about to make, but both Diana and Neal had been adamant that he give it a try. And Peter figured what the hell! At this point, he really didn’t have anything to lose. 

Quickly adding various selections of rolls onto a plate, Peter used the chopsticks to pick up one piece, dipped it lightly into the wasabi and soy sauce before carefully bringing the roll close to Elizabeth’s lips. 

She stared at him, shocked at the boldness of his move, but feeling a little turned on at the same time. He had never fed her before. Accepting the first roll, Elizabeth decided it was kind of hot! She allowed a small smile to settle on her face and was rewarded by a look of tremendous relief on the part of her husband. Feeling more confident, her husband popped a roll into his own mouth before selecting a piece of sashimi for her. 

Accepting the raw tuna, she followed the bite up with a small sip of wine. Immediately her eyes lit up as she now tasted the familiar vintage. It brought back memories of lazy days spent mostly in bed with her husband, both exhausted from their physical exertions making up for time lost while Peter had traveled the world tracking the infamous Neal Caffrey. 

Pointing to the bottle, she raised an eyebrow. “Neal?” she asked. When Peter nodded, she pursed her lips. “But how did he know-”

Peter shrugged and took his own sip. “Not a question we probably want answered.”

Elizabeth chuckled in agreement. “Probably not.” 

Accepting another piece followed by another, in short order all the rolls were gone as was the first bottle of wine. While her husband went to the kitchen for the second bottle, Elizabeth leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes feeling a relaxing little buzz from the alcohol. 

Returning with the open bottle, Peter stopped and took a moment to observe his wife. She was beautiful, he thought. And he was an idiot for not spending more time with her. Peter smiled looking at the bottle of wine in his hand. He was getting a little sappy. Wine had a tendency to do that to him. 

Peter continued to simple stare at his wife like some lovesick fool when she at last opened her eyes. Peter saw the lazy smile and buzzed glow she got when she had consumed just the right amount of alcohol. Knowing her like he did, Peter didn’t move. He remained completely still and he waited for the sign he hoped was coming. And when she calmly bit her lower lip, Peter knew it was time to go off script and start freelancing the operation.

Moving closer ever so slowly, Peter licked his own lower lip and watched as his wife focused on his tongue. Leaning into her body and gently pushing her down on the couch, Peter sought out her neck and began to plant nips and kisses from her jugular up to just below her right ear and back down again. 

Elizabeth allowed her husband to feast on her neck, her body relaxing into the comforts of the cushions. But when his hands began roaming and started to undress her, she snapped out of her wine, hot husband induced fog. Elizabeth sighed as she placed a hand between them creating some necessary space. She knew she had to stop things before they passed the point of no return. Right now, she had the leverage and needed to maintain the upper hand. Unfinished business needed to be tended to first and then hopefully they could finish what had been started.

As he felt his wife’s hand push against him, Peter leaned back into the couch and away from her. With a sigh, he acknowledged the truth of the situation. “You’re still pissed off.”

Elizabeth nodded. “I am. But I don’t think you know why I’m upset.”

“Because I’ve not been home,” Peter said simply.

“Yes, of course, because you’ve not been home, but you do realize it’s more than that, right?” 

When Peter looked perplexed, Elizabeth continued, “Peter, you haven’t been taking care of yourself! And that pisses me off! What good are you to the team if you’re too tired to think straight? They count on you. They need you. You have to be on your A game at all times especially as Neal’s handler. You know that!”

Peter nodded but still seemed a bit confused. “So you’re not mad because I wasn’t home spending time with you.” 

Elizabeth looked at him like he was being ridiculous. “This isn’t about me but of course I’ve missed you this week. Peter, I know your job is important, but I think we need to establish some ground rules so that you don’t burn yourself out.”

“Ground rules…” Peter repeated.

Elizabeth paused. She needed to put things in terms Peter could readily understand. It took her a moment, but then it came to her the perfect thing to equate the situation to so that Peter would get it. 

“Baseball,” she finally said. 

“Baseball?” Peter repeated unsure of the apparent change in topic.

Elizabeth smiled brightly. “Work is like baseball! You get three strikes and then you’re out.”

Seeing he wasn’t completely following, she elaborated. “For every time you skip a meal, lose sleep, fail to exercise, or something equivalent it counts against you as a strike. Three strikes and I step in and take whatever action I deem appropriate. Seems fair, right? What do you think?”

Peter sank further into the couch, clearly assessing her plan now that she had framed it in a way he could relate to. After a moment, he smiled. “I think it could work.”

Elated that they had reached a compromise they could both live with, Elizabeth stood up and held her hand out. “Shake on it,” she said.

In turn, Peter rose to his feet but instead of shaking her hand, he grabbed ahold of her by the waist and easily lifted her up over his shoulder. “I can think of a much better way to seal the deal than a hand shake,” Peter said while moving towards the stairs. 

“Peter, put me down!” Elizabeth cried out between fits of giggles. It wasn’t until they had reached the inside of their bedroom that Peter at last set her down. Turning to the bed, they both stopped and stared at the large box centered on the bedspread.

“What’s that?” Elizabeth asked curious about the large wrapped box with the golden bow.

Peter grimaced and answered reluctantly. “That’s Hughes’ contribution to the operation.”

“Operation?” Elizabeth asked with a hint of humor in her eye.

“Don’t ask!” Peter said quickly.

Knowing the box came from Peter’s boss seemed to intrigue Elizabeth even more. Picking it up, she asked, “I wonder what’s inside?”

Peter didn’t share in his wife’s enthusiasm and looked at the box like it was a ticking time bomb moments away from exploding in his face. More than weary of its contents, Peter wasn’t sure what to make of the note that had come with the box either. Other than the simple instructions to take the box to his bedroom, the note only had one additional line. Now, Peter watched anxiously as Elizabeth read the note for herself.

“For when a woman has needs,” she read out loud. “What do you think that means?” Elizabeth asked her husband. Peter had no answer so he merely shrugged.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Elizabeth pulled at the bow and ripped off the paper treating the box the same way she did a Christmas present. Giggling like a school girl, Elizabeth started pulling item after item from the box. While Peter wasn’t sure what he had been expecting of a gift from his boss, it most certainly was not the treasure trove of sex toys now collecting on their bed. 

As Peter turned beet red and tried his best to forget where the box had come from as well as unsee the unique items within, Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled as she took her time examining each and every one.

“Peter,” Elizabeth said, voice in awe. “It’s a complete bondage and domination starter kit for couples!” Looking up to meet her husband’s gaze, she said in a near whisper. “This is better than Christmas!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was on a roll so figured I had one more chapter in me tonight. Last chapter coming tomorrow.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Should I be working on my safe word?”
> 
> “Oh there’s no need for that. I have remarkable self-control,” Elizabeth assured him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this is the chapter that contains some light sexual explicit material.

Chapter Six

Peter decided to hide his discomfort with sarcasm. “Should I be working on my safe word?”

“Oh there’s no need for that. I have remarkable self-control,” Elizabeth assured him, but the tone of her voice did little to ease Peter’s growing concern.

“Hon?” Peter said as calmly as he could when he caught her practically drooling over a thin leather collar. 

If Peter hadn’t seen her pull it from the box, he would have thought it belonged to Satchmo. Was she really considering putting that on him? His wife looked up with a rather wicked smile on her lips. Well that answered that, Peter thought. His wife was most certainly collaring him! 

With increasing self-interest, Peter watched as his wife placed one larger item off to the side and then began returning toys to the box until only a few select items remained. Naturally amongst the remaining items included the collar along with matching wrist and ankle restraints. 

Peter himself had never given much thought to bondage, but he should have known that his wife would be in to it. There had been more than one occasion he had caught her staring at his handcuffs a little too long, and the way she enthusiastically approached him when he was wearing his leather shoulder harness probably should have clued him in as well. 

Then his sweet soulmate completely transformed right before his eyes as Elizabeth carefully picked up what appeared to be some sort of hard stick about twelve to fourteen inches long.

“What’s that?” Peter half croaked, a sickening feeling in his chest.

“A riding crop,” Elizabeth answered in a spirited voice. 

Peter felt a chill run through his body as he watched his wife absently stroke the toy, practically fondling it. Sweat beads began to form on his forehead as Peter swore he could hear Elizabeth purring in pleasure as she whipped the crop through the air testing out both its strength and flexibility. Then in a voice Peter did not recognize, his wife ordered him to strip and kneel before his goddess.

“Excuse me?” Peter asked. Elizabeth’s response was a whip of the riding crop across his ass.

“Shit!” Peter exclaimed rubbing his ass.

“Do I need to tell you twice?” Elizabeth asked lowering her voice in warning.

Swallowing hard, Peter thought it was in his best interest not to antagonize ‘his goddess’ and simply comply. Once naked and in position, Elizabeth circled behind him to fit the collar snuggly around his neck. Unexpectantly, Peter felt a rush. As a man used to being the one in charge, he was surprised at his body’s reaction to the act of submission and the symbol the collar represented. Who knew it would give him such a thrill? 

Risking a glance at his wife, clearly she was in her glory playing the role of dominatrix. Thank you, Hughes, Peter thought as a very sexy Elizabeth brushed the riding crop lightly across his back, the teasing sending another wave of pleasure straight to Peter’s groin. 

Closing his eyes, a soft moan escaped his lips and Peter started to reach down to touch himself.

“No touching!” Elizabeth snapped and punctuated her displeasure with a crack of the riding crop across his bare thigh. 

With a neutral expression and eyes downcast to the floor, Peter succumbed to the game and gave the only appropriate response, “Yes, my Goddess!” 

Another whack from the riding crop and Peter could tell she was getting into a good groove. As she wound up for another blow, Peter said softly. “El, are you sure about that self-control?”

Elizabeth smiled and her response sent a chill through Peter. “Maybe you do need a safe word.” 

Epilogue

Monday morning, Peter backed through the glass doors and awkwardly negotiated the steps one at a time, still feeling his way when it came to using crutches. He found Hughes waiting for him once he had managed to reach the top.

“Burke! What the hell happened?!” The senior agent questioned.

Peter shrugged as he maneuvered around his boss to come to a stop outside of his office. While he waited for Hughes to fish a shiny new key from his pocket to unlock his office door, Peter leaned against the wall to take the weight off his bandaged left knee. 

Opening the door, Hughes watched Peter take a seat behind his desk and prop his crutches against the wall. Hughes took the opportunity to look the agent up and down for any other signs of injury as he followed the agent inside. Hughes observed the reddish bruising that circled Peter wrists peeking out from the cuffs of his dress shirt. 

A smirk crossed Hughes’ face. “I take it Elizabeth enjoyed my gift.”

Turning red, Peter pulled the sleeves down the best he could to cover his marked wrists. “Yeah a little too much,” Peter answered.

“She’ll settle down,” Hughes promised him. “And the knee? It was the swing, wasn’t it?”

Without thinking, Peter nodded. “I had a problem with the mount.” Then realizing how that sounded, Peter’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he quickly added, “In the ceiling, the mounting hook in the ceiling. Whole thing came crashing down. Got my knee trapped awkwardly underneath my wife.”

“Ouch,” Hughes said in sympathy. 

Peter looked up sharply, “Wait. How did you know my accident was with the swing?” Something in his boss’ eyes made Peter stop. Then Peter narrowed his eyes at his boss. “Your herniated disc last winter… that wasn’t from a fall on your icy driveway, was it?”

Hughes grimaced. “No, it wasn’t. And ever since then, I’ve made sure I’m home for dinner.”

“Because a woman has needs,” Peter said quietly.

“Yes,” Hughes said. “It was a hard lesson to learn.”

Peter looked up meeting his boss’ gaze. In a resigned tone, Peter said, “You failed to mention something equally important, sir.” 

Hughes looked perplexed, “And what was that, son?”

Peter’s answer was matter of fact. “While a woman has needs, sir, a man—a man has limitations!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that's all folks. Hope you enjoyed my journey into how Peter ended up on crutches. I must say I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
